


Interlude: Mr. Jinx on Atlantis.

by Sealie



Series: sga/traders II [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Traders (TV 1995)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-30
Updated: 2007-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealie/pseuds/Sealie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stargate Atlantis/Traders crossover interlude [Atlantis: sur la mer segment]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude: Mr. Jinx on Atlantis.

**A Proper Cat Abroad**  
By _Mister_ Jinx

Funnily enough, Atlantis is a giant dog, so Mister Jinx is the undisputed leader in their relationship. Dogs are stupid, too focussed on the here-and-now. Cats know that the universe will wend the way it should.

Atlantis knows Cats. Their communication might have been facilitated by the white mouse -- pink tail -- squeak -- crunchy insides -- that Jinx had caught and delicately eaten during his first week exploring the City. But Jinx isn’t going tell anyone. Atlantis knows Cats because its previous owners loved Cats. As they should. So a door will open for a Cat if the Cat so desires it.

And Jinx so desires it.

He is a Proper Cat, with his own Favoured humans, and allows petting and strokes as his due. Many of the humans here have been deprived of Cats and so it behoves Jinx to ensure that they do not forget where Cats stand. He cannot do this if he is corralled -- corralled -- in his suite.

If he gets treats as he educates, it is only as it should be.

The preferred place of his most Favoured is always occupied and all humans stop their labours when he enters, tail held high, walking on his toes.

“Good Morning, Mr. Jinx.”

The small human is one of his Tolerated. Her neat fingers know exactly where to stroke. She can also bow. Not many humans seem to know how to bow.

This is a Sad State of Affairs, and no matter how much he points it out, it is not understood.

 _Humans._

Papers crinkle under his foot-pads as he stalks across her desk.

“I have nothing for you.” Her hands flutter, upset by the lack of tribute, and so she should.

“Hey, Jinx.” _Mister_ Jinx allows himself to be scooped up by the one that Atlantis Adores. He is Almost Cat, but  doggy in his lack of sense when it comes to matters of personal survival.

It is a quandary and thus best ignored.

Jinx is held like a dog, but he cannot find it in himself to be that offended, even if his legs stick out in a manner most inelegant.

“How does he keep getting out of his room?” His favourite-of-humans-since-time-began-and-his-eyes-were-only-just-opening speaks.

“Grant probably.”

“Grant!” The bellow is disturbing, so Jinx deigns hiss and flatten his ears. A Cat should always tell a human when they are displeased, otherwise how shall they learn? “Did you let Mr. Jinx out AGAIN?”

His new-favourite-of-human (there are many kinds of Cat Favourite and they are all favourite) smells like his favourite-of-humans-since-time-began, but in all other ways he is different. His new-favourite-of-humans has little Cat sense but he is still his new-favourite-of-humans.

However, it needs said, that while there are many kinds of Cat Favourite, such an honour is seldom bestowed. There are rare Favourites and there are those who are Tolerated for their tributes and there are those who are ignored.

“No.no.no.no.” New-favourite-of-humans lets him sniff his fingers before lightly bestowing pets on his ears.

Almost Cat swings over to a stool, to straddle and perch on, as is his nature.

Jinx does not approve.

Almost Cat is bony and has no lap to speak of, so Jinx will let new-favourite-of-humans hold him as a Cat ought to be held.

Or rather… there is a thrum of pleased-sound as he jumps to the table where favourite-of-humans-since-time-began works.

Cats do not have to work – Cats are superior in every way. They, however, understand the concept. It is important in the acquisition and provision of tribute.

“Nah, ah aah. No sitting on the computer. I don’t care if it is warm.” He is pulled on a lap which has breadth enough to serve him and settles, paddling his paws on the one who has cared since he was a mere kitten. “Everyone leave us alone now. Move along. Working. Systems to tweak. Things to figure out.”

He is content and Atlantis purrs with him.

 _fin _  
__


End file.
